


Wolf at the Door

by WakingTheWitch



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Adventure, Canon-Typical Violence, Companions Questline (Elder Scrolls), Daedric Princes (Elder Scrolls), Dwemer Ruins, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hot Springs, Jealousy, Light Angst, Love Triangles, Marriage of Convenience, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Romance, Slow Burn, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:14:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24544444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WakingTheWitch/pseuds/WakingTheWitch
Summary: Penniless and expelled from the College of Winterhold, Marcurio is stuck in the seedy city of Riften, with little hope of finding the adventure and excitement that he seeks. His luck turns when an intriguing, but friendly Imperial warrior hires him to accompany her on a journey to a Dwemer ruin on the opposite side of Skyrim. As they travel across the northern land, Marcurio starts to grow increasingly attached and attracted to the mysterious woman. However, unbeknownst to him, she harbours a sinister secret and the mage soon finds himself drawn into a tumultuous affair involving Daedric pacts, werewolves and love triangles.Set after the Dragonborn's escape from Helgen, but before the rest of the Skyrim main storyline.
Relationships: Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Marcurio, Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Vilkas
Kudos: 7





	1. Mage for Hire

**Author's Note:**

> Despite having been an avid reader of fanfics for a very long time, this is my first attempt at writing one, so any comments, feedback, suggestions and constructive criticism are hugely appreciated!
> 
> I will not be covering the main questline in this fic, though I will be touching on some of the side quests, so there may be some spoilers for those.
> 
> Erring on the side of caution, the rating is for future smut/explicit content and may still change.

Marcurio was bored. It was a quiet evening at the Bee and Barb, which meant there would be no work, which in turn meant that he would be stuck in this miserable city full of thieves and Stormcloak sympathisers for yet another night.

Tonight was no different from any other in the past month. Marcurio was sat at his usual bench by the tavern door, nursing a tankard of stale ale, keeping an eye out for prospective adventurers or travellers looking to hire a mage for their protection. To his misfortune, the only other patrons in the inn were regulars who had no interest in venturing out into the wilderness of Skyrim, let alone in the company of an Imperial mage. That unpleasant Black-Briar woman was having a drink at a table on the other side of the room; Vulwulf Snow-Shod was in quiet conversation with his son; the Dunmer Indaryn was chatting to Keerava, the Argonian proprietor of the tavern; and a young woman that Marcurio suspected was a member of the Thieves Guild was surreptitiously leaning against a wall by the stairs. Marcurio had no interest in any of them and they clearly had none in him.

Marcurio had arrived in Skyrim around a year and a half ago. As an apprentice mage, he had planned to spend some time at the College of Winterhold to hone his destruction magic skills as a visiting scholar. He had grown tired of the politics of the Arcane University in Cyrodiil, and the thought of pursuing his latest research ideas in the mysterious and distant north of Skyrim sounded refreshing and exciting.

Despite a promising start, Marcurio’s spell at the College ended up being short-lived. A few weeks after his initiation, Marcurio and several other apprentices had spent a boisterous night drinking at the Frozen Hearth and there had been… an incident. An incident in which Marcurio may have accidentally set fire to the Jarl of Winterhold as a part of a drunken bet. As soon as the Arch-Mage had heard about the events at the Frozen Hearth, he had made it clear that Marcurio would no longer be welcome at the College, muttering something about the importance of maintaining a good relationship between the College and the town of Winterhold.

Disappointed, but not disheartened by his expulsion, Marcurio decided that there was no point in heading back to Cyrodiil straight away – he had only just arrived in Skyrim and he had not even had the chance to visit any of the famed Nordic ruins that he had heard so much about. He might as well stay for a bit longer. Besides, he could not face the humiliation of going back to the Arcane University so soon after leaving and having to explain the reason for his swift return from Skyrim. However, as he no longer had free board and lodging courtesy of the College, he would have to sell his services as a mercenary to willing adventurers to make a living and to fund his travels. After all, if he could set fire to a Jarl he could definitely torch a few Skeevers or bandits here and there.

By the time he arrived in Riften, he had seen most of the big cities of Skyrim, as well as numerous forts, caves and ruins along the way. His latest employer had been a merchant looking for a mage to accompany him on his journey from Windhelm to Riften. The job had been easy enough and the merchant had paid well, but since parting ways, Marcurio had had little luck in finding another patron, and to make things worse, his gold was running out fast.

 _This is a waste of time; I should have just stayed in Windhelm. At least the inn there had a bard and you could have a decent conversation with some of the people, even if most of them couldn’t stand the sight of an Imperial._ Marcurio looked around at the Bee and Barb in disgust and decided it was time to call it a night and head back to his room, as the likelihood of anything interesting happening tonight was next to nothing. He had just raised his tankard to his lips to down the dregs of his ale when he heard the front door open. A tall woman wearing a full set of Nordic carved armour walked in.

 _Well_ _this is something different._ Marcurio had never seen the newcomer in the tavern before. She looked exhausted and Marcurio could tell she was limping. On her way inside, she stopped briefly to greet and exchange a few words with the suspicious-looking woman by the stairs and then made her way to the bar.

“Keerava, good to see you, it’s been a while. I’ll have the usual, please,” the woman greeted the Argonian behind the bar. She had a pleasant and mellow voice.

“You look like you’ve been to Oblivion and back. Here, let me get a room ready for you for the night, I’m sure you could do with a proper bed for a change,” Keerava said while passing a bottle of Black-Briar’s ‘finest’ to the woman.

The woman thanked her and then made her way to the empty table nearest to the bench that Marcurio was occupying. Marcurio watched her out of the corner of his eye with curiosity. She had taken off her ursine helmet and was taking a long swig of her mead. Without the helmet, Marcurio could see her face properly for the first time. The woman was no maiden, but nor was she old; she looked like she could perhaps be in her thirties, with fine lines forming around her grey eyes when she smiled. She was pleasant enough to look at, though a few fresh nasty-looking cuts and bruises marred her face. Her dark brown hair was tied in a Nordic-style plait at the back of her head. Despite her injuries, she looked to be at ease, carrying herself with pride. She looked strong, probably stronger than Marcurio, but nothing about her manner seemed threatening as she leaned back in her chair, savouring the cold drink.

The newcomer seemed to know most of the patrons in the Bee and Barb, nodding in recognition at someone at the table next to hers, but something about the way she had spoken to Keerava gave Marcurio the impression that she was not from Riften. However, more importantly, the dents in her armour, the greatsword on her back and the bruises on her face suggested that she was no stranger to battle or danger. This could be the person he had been waiting for these past weeks – his ticket out of Riften. It was certainly worth a try.

“The only thing better than a powerful mage fighting at your side is... well, nothing, really. For a modest fee, I'll bring my formidable arcane powers to bear against your foes. What do you say?” Marcurio put on his most persuasive voice.

The woman turned to look at him unimpressed. “Is that so? And what exactly makes you think that I would need anyone fighting at my side?”

“Judging by the looks of your armour and sword, I would wager that you’re in a line of work that carries a high risk of injury, death and making more than a few enemies along the way. Judging by the state of your face and your limp, I can tell that you could do with an extra pair of hands to fend off said enemies”, Marcurio shot back at her without missing a beat.

“Hah, you got me there! I have to admit, you haven’t caught me at the best of times, I feel like I’ve been trampled by a herd of mammoths,” the woman winced with pain. “If you must know, I have just returned from clearing out a fort of bandits to the west of here on Jarl Laila Law-Giver’s orders. The leader got a few lucky hits on me, but it’s nothing you should concern yourself with.”

“Yeah? Well it sure looks like more than just a few lucky hits…” Marcurio remarked, noticing an alarming amount of blood coating the warrior’s armour.

“In any case, I usually prefer to travel alone these days – no arguments over travel routes or tedious debates about Skyrim’s politics that way. Not to mention, travelling alone is cheaper. I’m not sure what you could offer to change my mind,” the woman said, ignoring Marcurio’s comment.

“For one, you will not find another mercenary on this side of the Jerall Mountains with such an extensive knowledge of both Dwemer and Nordic history and architecture as I have. Knowledge that can save your life and lead you to countless riches in the numerous ancient ruins and tombs of Skyrim. This of course is in addition to my superior skills in the arcane arts, mastery of the elements and my razor sharp wit. I can assure you I have no interest in politics, though I will make no promises about debating anything else.”

“Hmm, perhaps so. I don’t think I caught your name, mage.”

“It’s Marcurio.”

“I’m Lucilla, Lucilla Axius,” the woman replied.

“Lucilla? A fellow Imperial then, if I’m not mistaken?” Marcurio asked, keen to establish some common ground – anything that might sway her to hire him. He could not let this opportunity to leave the city slip through his hands.

“Yes, that’s right,” Lucilla nodded in reply, taking a sip of her mead.

“It’s always a pleasure to meet another traveller from the homeland. What brings you to Skyrim?”

“I’d rather not talk about that right now. It’s not a very interesting story and I’ve only just met you – I wouldn’t want to bore you with the details,” she quickly deflected the question and changed the subject. “Anyway, it’s been a pleasure talking, but I think it’s time for me to retire to nurse my wounds and get some rest.” Lucilla finished her drink and stood up.

Marcurio tried to hide his disappointment as best he could. This had been his chance to earn some gold and leave Riften, and he had blown it. The woman had made it clear she was not interested in hiring a travelling companion, or even just engaging in light conversation with him.

As the mage opened his mouth to utter a final appeal for the woman to consider his offer, she suddenly hesitated and turned round. “However, if your services are still on offer, I might have a proposition for you in the morning,” she said with a small smile and bid Marcurio goodnight.

Marcurio was so surprised by the sudden turn of events that by the time he could reply, Lucilla Axius had already made her way halfway up the inn stairs, before disappearing into her room. Marcurio grinned to himself in disbelief as he wondered what the warrior could have in mind for him. In any case, whatever the next day would bring, he could feel that his luck was finally starting to change.

*****

Marcurio spent the night drifting in and out of sleep, turning restlessly in his bed in anticipation of what awaited him in the morning. He was thrilled about the prospect of leaving Riften and earning some gold along the way, but a small voice at the back of his mind was telling him to stay on guard and keep his wits about him. As polite as Lucilla had seemed the previous night, there was no telling who the woman really was and what she might want from him – there were all kinds of strange and unsavoury characters wandering Skyrim these days. At the break of dawn, Marcurio got out of bed, hurriedly put on his robes and packed his travel satchel. The last thing he wanted was to oversleep and find out that the Imperial woman had left Riften while he was still in bed.

Stepping out of his room into the tavern hall, Marcurio noticed Lucilla already sitting at a table, finishing off her breakfast. She was still wearing her armour from the previous night, but she looked refreshed and seemed to be in good spirits. She had cleaned the blood off her face and armour, and her bruises looked fainter than before – likely the effect of a healing potion or two.

“Good morning mage! I’m pleased to see that you’ve decided to join me, I hope you slept well,” Lucilla greeted Marcurio cheerfully.

“Oh, never better,” Marcurio grinned at the woman and took a seat at her table. “So, what is this proposition that you have for me?”

“Straight to business then, I see,” Lucilla replied, slightly surprised, but not offended, by the mage’s directness. “Well, as it happens, I have been asked to recover an item from Mzinchaleft, an ancient Dwemer ruin in Hjaalmarch. Perhaps you know it?”

“Mhmm, go on,” Marcurio nodded. He had read about the ruins over the course of his studies and recalled that Mzinchaleft was considered one of Skyrim’s largest and most remarkable dwarven ruins, though he had never had the chance to see it for himself.

“Since you claim to be an expert in all things Dwemer, I was hoping you might be interested in joining me – help navigate the ruins, decipher dwarven traps and puzzles, that kind of thing,” the Imperial woman continued and looked at Marcurio expectantly.

 _This is perfect!_ Marcurio couldn’t believe his luck – not only did this adventurer want to hire him, but he would be paid to explore one of the most enigmatic and archaeologically significant ruins in all of Skyrim.

Keeping his cool, Marcurio replied, “You’ve certainly got my attention, but I don’t work for free. I would be happy to provide my services for 1,000 septims.”

“Hah, you must be joking! If that’s the price you charge I’m not surprised you’re stuck here in Riften. I’ll give you 400,” Lucilla scoffed at him.

“Please, a man has to earn a living. I’ll do 800, but no lower than that,” Marcurio retorted.

“Tell you what, I’ll pay you 500 now and once we get to Mzinchaleft I’ll give you half of all the loot. That’s my final offer.”

The price was lower than his usual rate, but Marcurio was too tempted by the chance to explore the famed Dwemer ruin and too desperate to leave Riften to pass on the opportunity. The promise of acquiring some dwarven artefacts as souvenirs was a welcome bonus. “Very well, you have a deal. When are we leaving?”

Lucilla grinned at Marcurio, “As soon as you’re ready, mage, though I’d recommend having a bite to eat first. It’s going to be a long journey.”


	2. Hot Springs and Rabbit Roast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcurio and Lucilla set off on their journey to Mzinchaleft and try get to know each other a bit better on the road with mixed results.

Under the scorching summer sun, Marcurio could feel the sweat slowly trickling down his back as he tried to keep pace with Lucilla, who was striding along the cobbled road. The two of them had been travelling for several hours since departing Riften and had just crossed the Eastmarch border. Their journey through the russet foliage of the Rift had passed mostly in comfortable silence without any notable incident, and they were now continuing their journey north along the craggy mountain road.

Marcurio, unable contain his curiosity, was the first to break the silence: “So, what’s the grand plan then? What is this artefact that we’re looking for in Mzinchaleft?”

“I suppose there’s no harm in telling you now that we’re on our way. It’s a sword, Grimsever. Mjoll the Lioness has asked me to retrieve it, as she happened to lose it in the ruins when she ventured there last Rain’s Hand,” Lucilla said.

“Oh,” Marcurio replied, somewhat disappointed. He had expected that they would be searching for a long-lost Dwemer relic or an item that would help unravel some ancient puzzle. This was much more mundane, just a fetch job with seemingly little to do with the ruins or the Dwemer themselves.

The mage also recognised the name that Lucilla had mentioned and he recalled the outspoken Nord whom he had often seen at the Bee and Barb. Mjoll was one of the few decent and upstanding citizens in Riften, but she was a tad too preachy for Marcurio’s tastes.

“That sounds very…routine, and dare I say, unexciting,” he remarked drily.

“What did you expect? That we would be solving some big mystery, discovering why the Dwemer disappeared?” Lucilla gave Marcurio an amused look.

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course not,” Marcurio scoffed at her, mildly irritated and embarrassed that a small part of him had hoped that they would be doing something more meaningful or fascinating than just finding a sword that someone misplaced.

“Mjoll is an acquaintance, so I offered to help retrieve the sword. However, she has also promised a generous reward to whomever returns Grimsever to her, so I’m not doing this just out of the kindness of my heart. In my opinion, getting to explore a Dwemer ruin, even just to find a regular old sword, beats fighting bandits in some damp and crumbling fort, which is what I usually do for a living,” Lucilla mused.

“Yes, I suppose so,” the mage agreed hesitantly.

Before he could say anything more, Lucilla suddenly stopped and quietly gestured to Marcurio to do the same as she reached for the large sword strapped to her back. Marcurio froze behind her as he listened to any giveaway sounds of approaching foes. He soon heard the low growls coming from ahead of them. _Bears_.

Aggressive as Skyrim’s bears were, Marcurio prepared for a fight. He cast Stoneflesh on himself, imbuing his skin with a magical protective layer, and readied a lighting bolt in his palm. It had been a while since he had last used his magic in battle and the feeling of the magicka rushing through his veins and the electric tingling in his fingertips felt exhilarating. It was as if all this time his body had just been waiting for a chance to let loose the unbridled elemental forces swelling within him.

As soon as Lucilla had drawn her sword, three large cave bears leapt out from the bushes next to the road. The bears let out a cacophony of growls and roars as they charged at the two travellers. With a swift leap to the side, Lucilla effortlessly dodged the closest of the animals. Her greatsword cut a deep gash into the bear’s flank and the animal stumbled as its sharp claws missed their target. Not losing a moment, Lucilla lunged forward and thrust the sword deep into the beast’s throat, ending its life.

Not to be outdone, Marcurio focused his attention on the remaining two bears. He sent a bolt of white-blue electricity at the nearest animal that was approaching him with speed. The ball of lightning hit the bear head-on and the injured beast gave a howl of rage and pain. Marcurio could smell the singed fur, but he knew that the bear would be not be stunned for long. He conjured up two more lightning bolts – one in each hand – and aimed them at the angry animal. The bear managed to swerve just enough to avoid the blast of electricity, but Marcurio was ready. Keeping his distance, he let loose a bolt of lightning with a fluid motion of his hand. This time it hit the bear straight in the face and the animal fell dead to the ground.

Meanwhile, Lucilla had circled around the third bear and prepared to launch a swift attack. She pounced and aimed her blade at the creature's throat, just as it vaulted towards her. Lucilla’s sword narrowly missed its target, but still managed to cut into the animal’s side. The bear stumbled to the ground with a furious roar.

As Lucilla was about to deliver the final blow with a heavy swing of her sword, Marcurio caught sight of a sudden movement behind her. A fourth bear emerged from the bushes, hurtling right towards the woman. With her sword already mid-swing and her back to the charging animal, there was no way she could move fast enough to avoid the beast's claws. Marcurio aimed a lightning bolt at the hulking creature just as it was about to sink its teeth into Lucilla’s shoulder. The spell hit the animal and staggered it just enough to give Lucilla time to spin around. With a flash of her sword, the bear’s head rolled into a crimson pool of blood on the ground.

Seeing its brothers dispatched in such a brutal way, the injured bear that had narrowly escaped Lucilla’s blade scrambled up from the ground and quickly scarpered back into the bushes. Marcurio was about to send a lightning bolt after it, but Lucilla stopped him before he could do so.

“Don’t bother, it won’t give us any more trouble,” she waved him off as she caught her breath.

“Impressive moves,” Marcurio nodded appreciatively as he lowered his hands and glanced at the bear’s decapitated head at Lucilla’s feet. The woman could certainly handle a sword.

“You didn’t do too badly yourself,” she grinned at him as she wiped off the blood coating her weapon. “I’d be in a pretty bad state had you not blasted that fourth bear.”

“Does that come as a surprise to you? I did say that I am a master of the arcane,” Marcurio replied smugly, though he was pleased about the compliment.

“Well, it’s good to know I’m getting my money’s worth – you never know with mercenaries,” Lucilla rolled her eyes as she sheathed her sword.

Before setting off, Marcurio and Lucilla skinned the bears, as there was no point in wasting good furs that they could sell for some gold in the next town. Once they had finished, they continued their way along the mountain path once again in silence.

*****

The day was well into the afternoon and Marcurio’s stomach was growling. The adrenaline rush of the fight had receded, the sun was sweltering hot on his back and he could feel his legs starting to tire from the journey. The mage silently cursed the lack of exercise and the copious amounts of ale that he had drunk over the past month in Riften. He had grown accustomed to the comforts of his sedentary life at the Bee and Barb and his body had forgotten the harsh realities of the road. Lucilla showed no sign of slowing down, so Marcurio had to reluctantly raise the topic of a break.

“Might I suggest we stop somewhere for lunch? We’ve been travelling for quite some time now without rest,” he called to Lucilla, who was yet again striding ahead.

“Tired already?” the warrior replied, turning to glance at the wizard. “Hmm, I suppose you’re right though. I know a suitable place not far from here where we can stop for a while.”

The mountain road that the two of them had been following had gradually descended into a broad valley and the surrounding landscape had transformed from jagged mountains into rugged volcanic lowlands with scarce vegetation. Sulphuric pools dotted the area, spouting jets of hot water in various shades of emerald and turquoise.

The two travellers made camp on a rocky outcrop next to a large hot spring. The campsite was close to the main road, but it was hidden from sight by some large boulders and a few sickly-looking trees. Marcurio got a small fire going with a slight gesture of his hand, whilst Lucilla rummaged through her bag for food supplies. She pulled out some bread, cheese, apples and two carefully wrapped rabbit legs.

As they quietly sat by the fire roasting the rabbit legs, the mage found it puzzling, and somewhat frustrating, that Lucilla had barely spoken to him during their journey. The moments when they had spoken, she had seemed witty and friendly, readily replying to Marcurio’s questions. She did not seem to have anything personally against him, nor did she seem to be particularly shy. Despite this, the woman never initiated conversation or wanted to carry on a discussion with him for longer than a few minutes. Perhaps she was just too used to travelling on her own.

Marcurio, on the other hand, liked to talk. He enjoyed both playful banter and more serious conversations, with both friends and strangers alike. Some might have said that he enjoyed the sound of his own voice a little too much, but in reality, talking kept Marcurio’s mind sharp and distracted him from the dull moments on the road, or indeed, in a tavern. Talking to someone also revealed a lot about a person – their background, values and how they viewed the world, which was useful knowledge when one was travelling and fighting side by side with someone.

With Lucilla, Marcurio had been unable to glean more than a few snippets of information. The previous night the woman had rebuked the mage’s casual questions about her background out of hand and Marcurio had started to suspect that the woman was hiding something. Still, the silence weighed heavy upon the mage, so he decided to give conversation another try.

“So, Lucilla, where exactly in Cyrodiil do you hail from?”

“Why don’t you try to guess,” the Imperial woman replied without raising her eyes from the rabbit leg that she was cooking over the orange flames.

“Alright. Judging from your accent, I would assume you’re from somewhere in the north, Bruma perhaps?”

Lucilla looked up surprised, “You have a good ear for accents. I was actually born in Chorrol, but grew up in Bruma and lived there most of my life.”

“Why would you move to Bruma? It’s not exactly the most interesting or hospitable of cities,” Marcurio said with a grimace, thinking about the icy and austere city in the Jerall Mountains.

“My mother is a Nord, so she always preferred the cooler mountain climate to the rest of Cyrodiil. How about you, mage?” the warrior raised an inquiring eyebrow at Marcurio.

“My family is from Skingrad, but I spent the last few years studying at the Arcane University in the Imperial City before coming to Skyrim about a year and a half ago,” Marcurio replied proudly.

“Of course, I should have guessed – you have that self-confident and entitled Imperial City air about you,” Lucilla smirked. “You strike me as someone who would much rather sip fine wines in a fancy library somewhere warm than wander the harsh lands of Skyrim. Whatever made you come here?”

“Believe it or not, I came here of my own free will,” the mage gave Lucilla a pointed look. “I was going to join the College of Winterhold as a visiting scholar, study the arcane arts, do some research on the Dwemer, that kind of thing. There’s really no better place for that than Skyrim.”

“And yet here you are, a mercenary in Riften, far from Winterhold and scholarly pursuits. What happened?” Lucilla asked interestedly.

An uncomfortable mix of anger and embarrassment flared in Marcurio as he recalled the events that had led him to being dismissed from the College. “Things didn’t get off to the greatest start in Winterhold, so I ended up leaving the College not long after I joined. There was still plenty I wanted to see in Skyrim, so now I make a living as a mage for hire,” he replied curtly.

“Well, sounds like there’s quite a story behind that!” Lucilla exclaimed with amusement. Marcurio could tell she was curious to hear more.

“It’s not very interesting and I’ve only just met you – I wouldn’t want to bore you with the details,” Marcurio replied wryly, echoing Lucilla’s own words from the previous night. As much as he wanted to make conversation, he had no wish to share the story of his humiliating departure from the College with this woman that he barely knew.

“Oh, how disappointing. I suppose it will have to wait till some other time then, perhaps once we know each other better,” Lucilla chuckled, as she offered an apple to Marcurio as a truce.

The wizard accepted the peace offering with a small smile. It seemed he had managed to break some of the ice between the two of them and he was pleased to note that Lucilla seemed to be opening up to the idea of light chitchat.

As they chatted and finished their meal, Marcurio looked at the surrounding vista and suddenly had an idea.

“What would you say to a plunge in the pool? I’ve heard the water here is meant to do wonders to your skin,” the mage suggested with a mischievous grin. He took off his boots and dipped his feet into the sulphuric spring next to their makeshift camp. The glimmering water looked incredibly tempting after a sweaty day on the road, and who knew, perhaps a tranquil dip in the pool would also help Lucilla unwind a bit more.

“I don’t know…” Lucilla said sceptically, glancing at the steaming green pool.

“Come on, it’s not like we are in a rush to get anywhere and it’s a beautiful sunny day,” Marcurio playfully splashed the water with his feet.

She shook her head, “I’m not really one for open-air bathing.”

“Suit yourself,” Marcurio shrugged and started to undo the ties and laces on his robes.

He deftly stripped off his clothing and carefully placed his robes on a rock beside the pool. The perspiration on Marcurio’s olive skin glistened in the sunlight as a light breeze tousled his long dark hair that he had tied back in a ponytail.

The mage was conscious of standing naked in front of his patron, but he didn’t let bashfulness stop him from enjoying the water. The excitement of the journey and the prospect of a hot bath made him throw caution to the wind. Besides, there was nothing inappropriate about having a relaxing soak in the pool, even though there was something thrilling about skinny-dipping.

As Marcurio lowered himself into the warm water, he could feel the dust of the road and the worries of the day wash away. The heat released the tension in his muscles and he sighed with relaxation. The mage glanced at Lucilla, but she was concentrating on tending the fire, carefully avoiding looking at him. He wondered if she felt awkward about his nakedness or if she was just very intent on making sure the fire did not go out.

“You don’t know what you’re missing, the water is divine,” Marcurio called to her, but she just waved him off and continued to prod the fire. _Oh well, her loss._

Marcurio leaned back against the rocky edge of the pool and closed his eyes. He felt the pleasant warmth of the sun on his face, and distant birdsong and the sharp smell of smoke from the fire lingered in the air. How different this was from the dirty streets of of Riften. He could happily stay like this forever. Marcurio’s thoughts drifted and he slowly started to feel one with the water.

Suddenly a splash of water hit him in the face and woke him from his reverie.

“Wh-what was that? What’s going on?” Marcurio spluttered.

“I had to check you were alive. You were about to start snoring,” Lucilla smirked at Marcurio.

Marcurio was surprised to notice that the Imperial woman was sitting across from him in the turquoise pool. She was studying him with an amused expression as she casually swirled the steaming water with her hand. Marcurio must have dozed off, as he had not heard her get undressed or get into the pool.

“I thought you said you weren’t into open-air bathing,” Marcurio muttered, annoyed at having been startled in such a way.

“I realised I was covered in bear blood, which I like even less than hot springs, so taking a bath was the lesser of two evils,” Lucilla grinned. “Also, I couldn’t resist the temptation of seeing your expression after that faceful of water.”

“Hilarious, I’m sure,” Marcurio gave her a dark look, but Lucilla just laughed and leaned back against the smooth rocks behind her.

Despite the rude awakening and the knock to his ego, Marcurio could not stay angry with Lucilla for long. He was enjoying the woman’s company too much to hold a grudge against her and she seemed to be in good spirits as well. He was also pleased that she had decided to join him in the pool. It seemed that she was not so prudish after all.

Emboldened by his good mood, Marcurio decided to pick up their conversation from earlier. “I don’t think you ever told me how you ended up in Riften. Was it the promise of gold? Adventure? A terrible curse? Or was it perhaps love? I’m sure a capable woman like you has her pick of lovers and suitors,” Marcurio winked at Lucilla suggestively.

Lucilla’s carefree smile faltered and for a moment Marcurio thought she looked alarmed, almost afraid. However, Lucilla quickly recovered and an inscrutable look came over her face.

“We should get going if we want to make it to Kynesgrove before dark. I’d rather not sleep in the open tonight,” she said coolly, avoiding Marcurio’s question. She briskly stood up from the pool, pulled on a light tunic and started strapping her armour back on.

 _Damn._ Marcurio sighed. Just like the night before, Lucilla immediately closed off when he had asked her about the reason she was in Skyrim. He could not understand what had upset her so, but there was no point in trying to get more out of her. It was clear that she was not going to budge on the topic.

“I suppose you’re right, I guess we should be on our way,” Marcurio reluctantly agreed and cautiously got out from the warm pool. The sun had started to set and the evening air felt cool against his bare skin, sending a slight shiver up his body. The scorching heat of the day had faded with the setting sun, along with the blithe mood of the afternoon.


End file.
